The Genies Of The Lamp - Aladdin Alternate Story
by SneakyMeeky
Summary: In the heart of the Cave of Wonders, a family of genies; some of the most powerful and omniscient beings in the universe have been trapped in a dusty, ancient lamp with such 'itty 'bitty living space for over 10,000 years, until a young street rat called Aladdin releases them! With a new master to serve, a joyful father, sassy mother, funky son and lovely daughter have much to do!


The Genies of the Lamp

(An Alternate Story)

**Chapter 1: Part and Parcel.**

Another day gone.

The Father slumped miserably against the wall, dragging his back downwards along the brass, a slight screech following in his wake as he slid down to the shining metal floor, paying close mind to his lower half, eager to make as little noise as possible. Becoming comfortable in such a small space was about as hard as you'd expect. It was a rarity to even go a night without something hurting the following morning. Through all his many agonies, the jarring cramp in his neck always killed him the most, a painful reminder of what he was, and the price of his power.

Boredom was a common aspect to life in a lamp, and when one was stuck for 10,000 years, one learned quickly to entertain oneself. He had tried everything he could, even the smallest distraction being enough to satisfy like counting the rings on the curved ceiling or tapping on the walls to make a tune. He even re-styled his slick black beard to the most ridiculous patterns. Anything to make the minutes go faster.

But The Father had one thing, something he held near and dear to his heart. A reason for him to wake up to a day of more nothingness.

"You okay, love?"

The Mother rolled over to face her beloved, her smile alone enough to turn even the strongest man's legs to jelly. Her hair sporting a wavy and sleek navy-blue colour, elegantly brushing against The Father's arm like it had a mind of its own, almost calling him to brush it like the many nights before. Her body was laid out inches above the metal floor, her silky night-dress matching her sea blue shaded body as her lower half gracefully hovered in a blue-ish mist, she often liked to intertwine her mist tail with her husband's, keen to bring to a smile when he looked so down in the dumps.

Sparing no time, her free hand reached towards The Father's plump chest, ever so gently placing them on his heart as she spread her palm. Her soft and delicate fingers working their way around his bicep, bringing a sense of warmth to The Father. This very feeling she brought was one of the millions of reasons he knew all those centuries ago she was the genie for him, and she had felt the same.

The Father could remember first seeing her in near-crystal detail. It was a memory he often relives every now and again, a story he would love to tell, to describe the rich vanilla smell, the deafening roars, the blinding lights…and the angel it had left in its wake. For certain, it was an event that changed his life for the better.

It had been a normal day in the lamp for The Father up until that point; more tapping, counting and even some singing preparing for should his master like some entertainment that evening. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, the rings on ceiling undisturbed, the metal walls and floor clean enough to eat off, the tiny exit to the lamp still closed off no matter how many times The Father had looked, begging every time for a different picture but still, nothing changed. It was mocking him.

He had finished the chorus and neared the finale, ready to unleash a flurry of colourful fireworks from his fingertips (he felt presentation was his strongest power). But the lamp had other plans. Without warning the shining interior had lit up in an explosion of ocean blue light and smoke. The Father could barely hear himself scream as the show blasted him backwards.

Glaring rays had begun to shine against the lamp's walls, forcing him to shield his eyes from the blinding light as sparks danced around his body. The whistle of what sounded like fireworks whizzed around the room bringing with it, roaring explosion after explosion. Not daring to go close to the pandemonium, the genie had quickly bought a pair of earplugs into existence to try and counter the chaos yet he still refused to look directly at the light.

The experience had ended after an agonizingly loud few minutes, the source leaving the room in a faint 'pop' like an opened champagne cork. Dumbfounded, with stars in his eyes and a ringing in his ears, The Father couldn't make heads or tails of what had happened. In all his years of imprisonment, the lamp had never pulled off a stunt like _that_ before. Was it a trick his master had played?

Was he dreaming? Or had he finally lost his marbles? Those questions didn't linger for long, however, for he had noticed that in the centre of the lamp, a trail of navy-blue smoke was clearing from the scene, leaving behind it a crumpled object on the floor. Only it wasn't an object, it was a genie.

The Father described her as the most beautiful genie he had ever seen, dare he even say an angel of sorts. Granted, he had never seen any other genies up until that point, he had believed he was the only one in the universe, a thought that brought him great sadness whenever it crossed his mind.

The Father had slowly approached the sleeping figure before him, like a schoolboy on his day at school being as wary as possible, cautious to not wake her. Her body was hunched over, a matching dark blue bikini laced with golden chains covering her chest, connected to a rich fabric that rested on her shoulders. The Father had noticed her fingers were drowsily running their way through her hip-length hair as her chest rose and fell to her deep alluring breaths. From her hips she wore a belt, its rose-red colour much like his own and, from there, her body seemed to smoothly morph into a cloud of light blue smoke, the tip of it rising and falling in suit with her breathing.

His attention was caught by the angel's wrists and a second of panic bled its way into his mind, snapping him back to reality. Much like himself, her wrists were cuffed with golden unbreakable metal, the shackles that kept him tethered to his curse. Like an icy hand had gripped on his heart, it had become as clear as day: she too shares his curse.

He had been too deep in thought to notice that she awoke with a start, a sudden gasp escaping her lips as her eyes jolted open. In a panic, The Father had pushed himself against the nearby wall, desperate to put as much distance between them both. The angel yawned deeply and attempted to sit up, her arms acting as her only support as her eyes gazed from place to place, observing her home with intense intrigue. Wobbling like a drunk sailor, trying to grip anything to stop herself from collapsing to the bronze floor. She still hadn't noticed her roommate, still hugging the wall in a silent panic. It wasn't long before her balance failed her, and her body stumbled forward with a squeak.

As if on gut instinct, The Father had jumped into action, shooting forward like a bullet fired from a gun to catch his fellow genie. His hands caught her just in time, careful not to aim for her chest, locking his grip under her armpits (she didn't weigh that much), keeping her mere inches from his heart. Her own hands had fallen onto his biceps, a look of bewilderment written across her face. Within seconds, the angel raised her head and her eyes locked with his own. To any who would listen, The Father would go on to say that her eyes shone as bright as diamonds.

Nothing was said as they stared blankly at each other, where her face showed a mix of confusion and a hint of fear. The Father's only displayed awkwardness, neither knowing how to respond to what they were seeing. Refusing to avert her gaze, the angel steadily straightened up, her hands like her eyes remaining unmoved, the vanilla odour she wore blessing the air around her.

Somewhat confident that the angel could stay upright, The Father gently released her. But to his surprise, the angel remained attached to her towering knight, her once puzzled face changing to a look of happiness, her eyelashes fluttered as a pearly white smile formed across her mouth.

An affectionate smile he had not known existed.

A smile that warmed his very heart and soul.

One of pure magic…

The very same smile that belonged to his wife.

"Oh! I-It's nothing dear… sorry, I was miles away,"The Father reassured,he didn't like to let her see this side to him if he could help it. He always needed to be strong and if these endless years of imprisonment had taught him anything, no one knows how long it takes until the next master releases them. If 10,000 years was anything to go by, he would've given up completely if not for those around him.

Bringing his voice to a whisper, "Please, you should get some sleep,'' he insisted, trying hard to end the conversation.

Her eyebrows could hit the ceiling if she raised them any higher.

"You know you can't lie to me. I can tell when something's up love,"The Motheryawned.

Her hand was still resting on her husband's chest, her fingers absentmindedly drawing circles along his left pec, her focus was centred on his face, however, and the smile he wore didn't feel as real as she wished it to be. She thanked Allah that he was blessed with such a magical smile, you couldn't help but grin whenever he cracked a joke, dare she say he made life in this prison somewhat bearable.

But this smile wasn't one to join in on. The corners of his mouth were twitching, and he wasn't meeting her eager gaze. He was looking past her, to the further end of the cramped lamp, his already phoney smile faltering more and more by the second. She could see it in his eyes, her husband couldn't hide how he was feeling.

"They don't blame you,"she assured.

Abandoning her quest to make eye contact, she turned her attention to where her husband was looking. Huddled together, not too far from them, were two other blue figures. To the right, she could see a muscular, well-groomed genie lying on his back, a chained necklace of pure gold hanging loosely from his neck, its pieces jingling in response to his upper body lazily punching the air, slurring to the ceiling "punch…p…pizazz" over and over like a broken record. She always believed since his creation that her son had inherited his good looks from his father. To her amusement, she could remember seeing him earlier this evening sweet-talking the lamps mirrored walls. Though when it came to quote _'pizazz'_, she took great pride in thinking he took after herself, no matter how many times her husband tried to take further credit.

A loud snore from the left of her son diverted The Mother's attention, quickly proven to have originated from a slim, gorgeous young genie, her long curly dark brown hair almost acting as a makeshift pillow for her head floating with her body. The Mother noticed she had started to smile, caressing her hair like it was a dog craving attention. Her mother wondered if she was dreaming about that prince again. Last night, she had told her (away from her brother, of course, he would never let her live it down) she was being rescued from a tower guarded by a ferocious dragon. The night before it had been a castle ball of sorts, with chandeliers made from shimmering crystals, as the Prince Charming danced with her for hours.

The Mother couldn't help but grin.

She now felt more relaxed, her kids were fine. But as she rolled back to return to her lover, his smile had gone completely, replaced only with a look misery, she could see his eyes becoming shiny and glazed, her sense of ease was quickly fading to dust. The Father looked down to his wrists, the shining golden shackles gleaming in the lamps natural bronze light, he raised them to eye level and analysed them with such longing. Taking a deep breath, he finally met his wife's eyes.

"They… they shouldn't have to live this life, born to serve until the end of time"

All she wanted since she awakened was for her husband to meet her eye but now her wish was only causing her to look away from him, drawing more focus to her nails. She didn't want to turn on the waterworks. And she certainly didn't want to wake up the kids, to hit the pause on her son's battle or rip her daughter from the arms of her prince.

_Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry_ The Mother thought to herself, praying her words could beat her tears into submission.

The Father glanced again to his children. The lights of his eternal life, his reason for waking up to more days of waiting, his legacy, targeting his gaze to their golden cuffs. The parents had never tried to hide the facts of their curse to their kids, their son would often joke on how uncomfortable the shackles feel, saying, "Officer please, you've got the wrong guy!"

Their daughter would spend most of her time entranced by them however to The Father's surprise, whereas to the Mother's annoyance. Most of her questions would always come back to them like asking, "Could I rub some butter on them, slip them off?"

Taking another deep breath, The Father continued.

"They have dreams… they want more, we're the most powerful beings in the universe…and yet when she looks at me..."the Father said, gesturing to his daughter whose snores were now much quieter than before.

"...asking what's out of this cell she calls home. I feel so h-helpless!"The Father'svoice failed himas he finished his sentence, in seconds tears began to slide down his cheeks, in shame he hid his face in his hands, anything to cover his weakness to his beloved.

Seeing no point in hiding it either, The Mother buried her face into her husband's belly, the power of his gut muffling her defeated sobs as more and more tears flowed from both sides. She could feel the occasional teardrop landing on her neck, each drop leaving a bigger hole in her heart, with it drawing even more tears from her own puffy eyes. She never knew his feelings ran so deep nor that he could be so sincere about something so serious. Then it hit her like a hammer to her brain, the joker persona he had played these many centuries seemed to make much more sense.

Easier to cover up one's pain than acknowledge it for what it is.

How could she have not noticed sooner? She was supposed to make him the happiest genie in the universe, a vow she had made all those years prior…

But what could she say? Part of her wanted to be positive about it, make him believe that their kids will lead happy lives, be free to be their own masters, say anything to wipe those gut-wrenching tears from his face and go back to sleep. But she knew what would have to happen, and over a few millennia, neither she nor her husband had a single master who even _considered_ their one wish. It was a double-edged sword she wielded, to tell her husband what he wanted to hear would be a barefaced lie for all she knew, and it was torture knowing that he was right.

Was this the life they'd lead? Would her children know anything other than servitude?

Had she failed as a wife? Much worse, as a mother?

The thoughts bounced through her skull like a tennis ball with the third sending a burning feeling in her heart like a raging bonfire. Her conflict had clouded her mind so much so that she failed to notice her husband's arms wrap around her in a tight embrace. She remembers this feeling all too well. She had once believed it was one of his infinite powers, the ability to have any sort of fear, grief and hate almost wash away in his arms, to make her feel safe, protected, and loved. But she couldn't narrow it down to a simple spell or power, it was something she found greater than any magic she knew when they were together like this, it was true love she felt.

She could stay snuggled like this forever, it wasn't like she was going anywhere anytime soon…Trying hard to stifle her sniffling, she swiftly returned her husband's bear hug, nuzzling her head into his shoulder. Refusing to break the embrace in fear the tears will return should she do so.

"It's not your fault my love,"The Father choked.

By now, The Mother's sobs had lessened, allowing her time to pull herself together. She pulled back slightly and rested her head on The Fathers own, putting them now mere inches away from each other.

"You want what's best for them but you must know there are things we simply can't control. All we can do for now is our best," she added.Her hubby had begun tosink his head into her neck, his weeping whilst less audible, still there. Forcing herself to break slightly from his grasp, The Mother's hands found her husband's face.

His once caring eyes were a glossy and veiny red, a single miniature tear could be seen sneakily sliding down the corner of his cheek. Of all these painful images painted on his face, the one she simply couldn't bear to see was his shameful look, and once again it seemed he couldn't even meet his wife's longing gaze. Inhaling deeply, The Mother ever so gently shifted her husband's head to meet her eye-line, in this position, he could not escape her stare.

Talking no higher than a whisper. _"_Listen to me when I say this, I could not be more grateful to have such a loving husband to spend eternity with, even if you are a bit of a goof," she said.This brought a slight chuckle to The Father, signalling The Mother to continue.

"But you know what, you're _my_ goof, and we have to stay strong. Not just for each other, but for them, 'they' need us to be strong,'' she added.The Mother pointed to her kin, The Son shifting in his spot as if on cue whilst the daughter remained as still as a statue. "I may be a genie 'hun but I can't read your mind. If something's wrong, you have to let me know, I can help you… that's what I'm here for," she concluded.

To her joy, this was enough to bring back her husband's smile completely. A real one this time! That affectionate and friendly grin she knew all too well, pouring an instant warmth onto her heart as she wiped that pesky tear with her thumb from his cheek. Returning her own loving smile before pressing her lips against his own.

Returning to sleep felt much better for both genies that night, like a heavy weight had been taken off their shoulders, the dark cloud had been blown away by the winds of their love. The Mother rested her head on The Father's chest, continuing to run her fingers along his ribs, every now and then pretending there was someone running with her index and middle finger before she fell into a deep sleep. The Father in response stroked his wife's hair, its silky smoothness running through his fingers until he too fell into a deep slumber.

Within the hour, the lamp fell near-silent once more. The only sounds being the snores of its inhabitants, the most powerful beings in the universe, a wacky father, a sassy mother, a groovy son and a sweet daughter. Their cosmic powers were as strong as their bond, but with such 'itty 'bitty living space.

They are The Genies of The Lamp.


End file.
